Tim's 2 Families
by Tibki
Summary: Timothy McGee is lucky enough to have 2 families: one related by blood and hidden from the other. This is what happens when one finds out about the other. ONESHOT, which is very un-me... No ships, just drabble. plz read!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, this is officially my 2nd story, and the 1st I've written for NCIS. I was reading "A Good Egg" by channeld (very awesome story, btw) and this is my own idea about why McGee never gets hurt.**

**Disclaimer: Every night as I go to sleep, I wish on Polaris (the north star) that I owned NCIS. No dice yet, tho, so don't try to sue me.**

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"Find out everything you can about Lieutenant Robertson. We need to find this b$^rd before he gets another load of those weapons."

"Um, boss, the computers…."

Gibbs just glared at him, and Tim wisely chose to shut his mouth. Running a search was obviously out of the question with all computers offline due to severe weather outing most of the internet services in the city.

The Electronic Storm of the century battered against the unopenable windows, wanting to get inside badly.

"Looks like you're gonna have to do it the old fashioned way, McGoo," Tony said, grinning. "Phone calls and favors."

"Yeah, because phones are so old, Tony."

"Well, good luck finding anything."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"You're a probie."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Ziva spoke up from behind her desk. "Tony thinks that since you have only spent a "meager" 6 years here, you do not have as many contacts as we do. Tony has friends in several police departments on the Eastern Coast, and I have contacts in Mossad and almost every other agency in the world. Who do you have?"

McGee shrugged modestly. "Family."

That got Tony to give out a loud, barking laugh. "Yeah, like your little sister knows anything about Lieutenant Robertson."

"There are more McGees than just us, Tony."

"Oh, really? How about a bet?" McGee rolled his eyes. "20 bucks says that you can't find half of the things I can in 10 minutes."

"I like those terms. Mind if I fall in?" Ziva asked curiously.

"Drop," Tim corrected. "Fine, I'll take the bet. It's going to have to be longer than 10 minutes, though."

"Half an hour's my final offer," Tony grinned. "Ready….set… go!"

McGee immediately picked up his phone and called Abby's lab. "Hey Abs, can you grab the extra books I keep in ballistics…? Yeah, those. Just stick them in the elevator, Tony has a half-hour bet going."

Tony and Ziva glanced at each other again, confused, as he said thanks and hung up. McGee didn't even notice their stares as he pulled out 5 address books from a drawer in his desk, opening the third one and flipping a few pages.

5 minutes later, the elevator bell dinged and McGee stood, coming back with 5 more black books to add to his growing pile.

"What the #3!!, McGee?" Tony asked in wonderment. "What is all that?"

"The McGee archives," he replied simply, "of North America." He found a number in one of the books from Abby's lab and dialed it, greeting the person on the other end with an "_Hola_, uncle Tommy, it's Tim, Ian's son. Yeah, that Tim. Listen, I need a favor. Can you check up on this guy named Lieutenant Peter Robertson, United States Navy? Computers are down on our end, big storm. No, not that big, but big. Ok, thanks Uncle Tom, I owe you one… that was the least I could do, she did fix the insurance on the Camero… alright. _Gracias_, Tommy, say hi to aunt Ingrid for me, alright? Bye."

So it went on for another 20 minutes, until Gibbs stalked into the bullpen, demanding their findings.

Ziva was first on bat. "Lieutenant Peter Robertson, age 35, born in Paxton, Virginia graduated top of his class but joined the Marines after high school."

"Served in Iraq three times," Tony added.

"One ex-wife, married in Vegas while on shore leave…"

"Divorced 3 months later, no kids…"

"Only family is his father," Ziva finished.

"Where's his father?" Gibbs asked. "What ship was he on? Anything weird about him to his crewmates?"

"Lost the father in Oregon 4 years ago," Ziva winced in reply, "The ship and project he was working on is highly classified, and we couldn't get hold of any of his crewmates."

"McGee!"

"Yes boss?"

"Did you find anything, or are you just standing there?"

For once, McGee looked a little confident. "You want me to start from the beginning, boss?" The others blinked at him, but Gibbs nodded slowly.

"Lieutenant Peter Issac Robertson, born April 29, 1979, age 35. Born in Paxton, Virginia, to James Issac Robertson and Julia no-middle-name Robertson, who died in a car wreck 10 years ago going to see her sister, our victim's aunt. Moved around the country several times before settling back down in Paxton where he was Valedictorian of his graduating class. He was in ROTC, but still angered his dad when he joined the Navy instead of going to college like he wanted.

"Served twice in Iraq, nearly caught in crossfire but managed to escape with all his buddies with nothing but scrapes and bruises. During shore leave after the second tour, he met his old high-school sweetheart in Vegas—he and his buddies had taken a road rip from San Diego—got drunk, and had a drive-through wedding in an Elvis costume with his class ring. Divorced her 3 months later after actually finding out he was married, kept it quiet from his Dad, who still isn't speaking to him after 17 years in the Navy and current lives in uptown New York. And I know for a fact that he paid for a warehouse at the docks in cash, and was seen bringing everything from a cot to a minibar into it. That's probably where you'll find him, boss." He smiled at Tony and Ziva's astonished faces.

"You guys owe me 40 bucks."

"How…?"

"Good job, McGee," Gibbs said, nodding appreciatively. "Those black books help?"

"Yeah. Took a while to get them together, though."

"Huh. How many underground contacts this time?" Tony and Ziva glanced at each other, their eyes as wide as dinner plates. _Underground contacts? McGee?_

"Didn't use any of them. Saving those for later, boss. Besides, I don't want Frankie B. to think I only went to Cousin Katie's wedding with him just so I could ask him a favor 2 weeks later."

"Wait, Frankie B.?" Tony asked, still shell-shocked. "_Frankie B._? The guy who runs one of the biggest crime rings in D.C. and has _wanted_ by the FBI for the last 3 years for breaking into that Pharmaceutical company's records?"

"Yeah, he's my grandpa's sister's daughter's 3rd kid after her 2nd divorce." He smiled at his partner's face. "Who do you think hacked into the company in the first place?"

"I'm not hearing this!" Jenny's voice sang as she passed the bullpen, her hands to her ears.

"He only wanted to see if the meds they were giving Cousin Jimmy for his cancer were tested right or not, Director," he replied, flushing a little.

"Still not hearing this!"

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**Alright, tell me what you think. If you think its awesome, review. If you think I should be locked up in a padded room in a straitjacket, review and say so. Just please hit the button right down there to say what you think! ~ Tibki**


	2. Chapter 2

**Srry 2 everyone who thought I was going 2 add a new chapter. Like I said, this is a one-shot, & I also figured out that if you replace a chapter, the story won't jump 2 the top of the list & get noticed by a lot of people.**

**So now I've got 2 add this, & RUN from any of those administrator ppl who made that rule about no A/N chapters.**

**Anyway, a few ppl have been asking 4 sequels, and I will happily oblige if & only if u agree to the two terms below:**

**a) the plots in my head take time I don't really have 2 develop, so plotting, outlining, & proofreading will take time. Just a warning, really, not exactly a term.**

**b) I have now got 2, not 1, 2, plotbunnies in my head, but I can't decide which 2 write and publish. So plz vote on the poll on my profile if u want anymore!**

**Thank uz.**

**Tibki**

**(This has been a Public Fanfiction Announcement brought 2 u by the number 3.14159264358979323846 a.k.a. pi (my girl scout troop's unofficial #)).**

**Now, to get the FF ppl off my tail & 2 make sure this doesn't get deleted, here is a little bit of a story, the unwritten until now 3rd plot bunny! Takes place right in the middle of "Twisted Sister", so major spoilers. Enjoy:**

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"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, my boy?"

"Um… sh-should I be… disturbed, by this?"

Jimmy was in his scrubs, looking at the body of one Seaman Petty with a confused look on his face. Ducky raised his eyebrows, almost equally puzzled.

"I should hope not, Mr. Palmer, after all, we have had many a more gruesome crime, more disgusting a body to deal with. All that is wrong with this poor fellow is the stab wound in his chest. Why would you feel disturbed?"

"Well, uh… I overheard Tony and Ziva saying something about Agent McGee's little sister killing him."

Ducky nodded, understanding. "And you find it hard to believe that the younger sibling—the younger _sister_—of the same agent who nearly beat himself to death over his first kill is capable of murder?"

"I-I know its silly, but if she's anything like Agent McGee, she wouldn't be able to do something like this, I mean, they had the same parents, right? How could they raise one to be a federal agent and the other to be a killer?"

Unfortunately for Jimmy, the doors to Autopsy _swooshed_ open at that exact moment and McGee himself came through them. Jimmy's mouth made a click sound as it slammed shut, his cheeks flushing.

"I-I didn't mean…"

"Save it, Palmer," McGee said, cutting him off. Ducky raised a single eyebrow. He had heard from the others that McGee was different in fraternal mode, but this was something else. He seemed straighter, slightly angry and resigned, and definitely worried. "Sarah didn't kill this guy. She's not like that. She may not be me, but she's not like that. Can I talk to Ducky alone, please?"

Jimmy nodded silently and nearly ran out of autopsy with a few samples for Abby. The moment the doors shut, McGee sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Something troubling you, Timothy?"

Despite everything, McGee managed to smile. "You're almost as good as Gibbs."

"Oh, I certainly doubt that. I cannot imagine being at the same level as Jethro. It's quite impossible for an old medical examiner like me to think that I could be equal to a refined Marine-turned-NCIS investigator. But," he smiled in return, "a certificate in forensic psychology can be helpful at times. What would make you, Timothy, come to my domain that you once hated with such passion?"

McGee knew he was on a roll and didn't interrupt, knowing it would give him more time to think about what he was going to say.

"After all, at the beginning of your tenure, you could barely stand the sight of that acid-worn submariner. Now you are coming down solely for the purpose of telling me something, and have not given the body of your sister's ex-boyfriend a second thought. Something is either heavy on your mind, or you have come a lot farther than I first suspected. Now, what is it you wanted?"

McGee sighed, knowing his time to practice was up. "Um… If Sarah, God forbid, does get convicted…"

"Don't think that way, Timothy. I'm sure your sister is innocent, and we will prove it…"

"I know that," he interrupted, "and I don't think anyone else could prove it better than we could, but if something goes bad… if this all goes south, could you do me a favor and tell the team to watch their backs, from me?"

Ducky frowned. "Of, of course, Timothy, but why would you need me to tell them? And why could you not tell them yourself?"

McGee sighed. "The Director wants me in her office, and I'm pretty sure it's not for a glass of bourbon. If this is the end of my road at NCIS, I need you to tell Gibbs, Ziva, Tony, Abby, even Director Shepard—heck, even Palmer—to watch out for the weeks after. I…" Here he swallowed. "I don't want to hear that you had to do another autopsy on someone you knew, Ducky."

Dr. Mallard had not been expecting this.

"You think someone will go after the team if your sister is convicted of a murder she probably didn't commit?"

"If she goes to jail, then yeah, there will be. We've got family in a lot of places, some of them a little… shadier… than others. I don't want to see any of them hurt. You'll be fine because they won't hurt a doctor—some sort of code of honor—but the others…"

"Timothy, this makes absolutely no sense…"

"Please, Duck, just promise? If sarah gets proved innocent, you can just forget this whole thing ever happened, but if she doesn't, I need to be sure someone will be able to warn them. I might not be able to stop them before something happens."

"…Alright, Tim, but if anything happens, you will explain to me what you're talking about."

"Hopefully, I won't have to," he replied, obviously in relief. "Thanks, Ducky, I owe you one."

Before he could reply, McGee's phone rang and he was out he door to the Director's office.

"Thanks, Ducky!" he called again from the elevator. Ducky turned and looked on the man with the single stab wound to the chest.

"Lets hope you were not killed by Sarah McGee, Seaman," he said, "Timothy was right in one aspect: I do not want to perform another autopsy on a team member."

As it turned out, Sarah didn't kill Seaman Petty, but every time Ducky tried to question McGee about what he had said, the man managed to either worm out of it or leave before the question was fully formed. Eventually, Ducky forgot about the entire exchange.

McGee might not have been able to lie, but he was a heck of a dodger.

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**Hope I managed to write out Ducky right... and especially the psychology stuff. Plz vote? Plz?**

**Tibki**


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